Cousin Eddie’s Bathrobe.

at home, etiquette, respect, the neighborhood, , , ,

The other morning, Best Friend told me that when he went out to the mailbox, he was greeted by a stranger in sandals, socks, shorts, and a wide opened bath robe.

It was an odd vision, I’m sure.  Yet, I’m not surprised since the guy who we nicknamed “Cousin Eddie” was in the driveway of our next-door neighbor who has the oddest people living with him – like Turban and Lady Godiva.  We think they rent rooms from him – The Wild One – and at first, we thought Cousin Eddie was a new renter.  But after a week, we didn’t notice him around, so he might have been a visitor.

The Wild One, our neighbor who owns the house, is a snowbird.  That is, he spends time here from October to April, then trucks his way back to the backwoods of northern Wisconsin from May to September.  He totes his Harley between homes in his pickup truck, and every day we hear him start up the hog and zoom off, only to return late in the day.  And if he’s home, it’s pretty much guaranteed that we’ll hear him using his jig saw, grinding rust off of his patio table for hours, or running some sort of electrical tool.  Inside his house, he has several mounted animal heads, such as deer and bear, and a pool table in his living room.

Turban is one of his renters who enjoys sitting in the driveway and talking on the phone.  She used to wear a turban, and though she doesn’t anymore, our nickname for her stuck.

Lady Godiva was the other renter who was waiting for her house to be built.  I’m not sure why we called her Lady Godiva, but I’m sure there was a good reason.

All I can say is that when The Wild One returns to Wisconsin, the neighborhood will be much quieter, and hopefully, no men standing in the driveway with an opened bathrobe.

As ever,

Lady Susan Marie Molloy

✿●▬●✿ ©2023 The Oasis at Four Queen Palms ✿●▬●✿

A Night at the Opera – Part 2.

entertainment, opera, music, , , , , ,

It’s opera season 2023, and this time we saw Gilbert and Sullivan’s The Mikado.

We ate a light supper before getting ready.  It wouldn’t work out to eat at a restaurant, since there are not that many along the way to the theater, which was in another town.

I wore a black and white dress with a sparkling black and gold shawl.  Best Friend wore his black Beatle boots with dress pants and shirt.

The drive to the theater was easy, rain clouds hung in the distance, and we made it to the theater in about 40 minutes.  The parking lot was crowded, but we easily found a spot to park our car.  We later learned that the lot was crowded because there was also a private birthday party for “Chris” in a small conference room attached to the theater.

When the doors opened, we took our seats – orchestra left center.  We had a good vantage point of the stage, and we were excited for the opera to begin.  Especially since a gaggle of chitty chatty women were standing next to us in the aisle talking about their sons, their daughters, the beauty salon, the manicures they just got . . .

Patrons were dressed casually, and I observed it all – shorts, t-shirts, jeans, sparkling blouses, and khakis.  Something that I wish people would cut back on is dousing themselves in cologne.  It’s enough to gag an elephant.

The Mikado was enjoyable, although sometimes it was difficult to understand the spoken dialogue.  The costumes were not what I expected.  Since The Mikado takes place in a fictional location in Japan, I expected kimonos, yukatas, and traditional hairstyles.  Instead, the costumes had hints of traditional dress – shoulder pads, vague oriental designs, and the like.  Mainly, the costumes were of late nineteenth century Western style dress for both men and women.

Despite my disappointment with the costuming, the story was funny, and the songs were sung with strong, rich voices.  My favorite piece from The Mikado is “On a Tree by a River (“Willow, tit-willow”), and I have liked that song since I was little.  And . . .

PIRATES ADD

We picked up a coloring book for my grandnephew that tells an abridged version of The Pirates of Penzance.

This was nearly a three-hour opera, and by the time we returned home, it was after eleven o’clock.

It was all worth a night out.

As ever,

Lady Susan Marie Molloy

✿●▬●✿ ©2023 The Oasis at Four Queen Palms ✿●▬●✿

No Payment Due.

current events, dining, gratitude, kindness, tips for gracious living, , , , , , , ,

Earlier this month, we wanted to go shopping at one of our local antique shops, so Best Friend and I got ourselves together and first headed out for an early lunch.

We stopped by a little grille, nestled in a shopping mall between a seedy-looking thrift store and a storefront mission.  This grille has some of the best home cooked meals in our town, and we never had a bad meal there.

The lunch crowd was thinning out, and we were able to sit in a corner booth.  Best Friend ordered steak and eggs, and I chose a half tuna sandwich with broccoli soup.  We enjoyed our conversation about this and that, we ate our meals, and soon we were ready to head to the counter to pay our bill.

I caught a glimpse of a lady, perhaps in her late 40s-early 50s, who was at the counter paying her bill.  By the time we got there, she was gone.

Best Friend took out his debit card.

“It’s paid for,” said the cashier.

“I’m sorry,” replied Best Friend.  “What’s that?”

“Your bill is paid for by the lady who was just here.  You owe nothing.”

We both were speechless.  We were so surprised, so shocked at this, that we didn’t know what else to say, except for, “Wow.  You only read about this sort of thing in the newspapers.”

The cashier smiled.  We gave her a large tip (for she was our waitress, too), and we went on our merry way.

There are kind people in this world.

As ever,

Lady Susan Marie Molloy

✿●▬●✿ ©2023 The Oasis at Four Queen Palms ✿●▬●✿

Angry Man.

comportment, essay, etiquette, manners, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Recently, I decided to tag along with Best Friend to an appointment.  I had some free time, so why not?

That beautiful Thursday morning offered refreshingly cool, fresh-smelling air.  The sun shone brightly in a cloudless sky, and traffic into town was light.  The cattle that are usually in the fields must have been sleeping in the barn because I didn’t see any as we drove along the back road.

We arrived early for his appointment, and while he was busy, I remained in the waiting room.  I tried to read a book, but the otherwise serene room was shattered by an elderly man who was loudly combative with one of the staff (she was being so pleasant and patient with him, on the other hand).  Well, that bruhaha kept me from reading.

Within a few minutes, Best Friend returned to get me so that we could leave, but not before the combative man stormed out of the building in front of us, his meek wife following.

By the time Best Friend and I got to the parking lot, Angry Man had just gotten into his car, slammed the car door, and started backing out of his space without looking.  We were right there, paused on the sidewalk, and he was so quick in backing out and slamming his car into “drive” that it seemed he stripped his gears.  He nearly ran us over.  He flipped us the finger and shouted something.  And he squealed his tires down the parking lot to the main road.

By the time we got to the main road in our car, he was stuck in the middle of the street.  Traffic was heavy and drivers in both directions were attempting to maneuver around him.

It’s really sad that some people choose to take out their unhappiness and anger on everyone around them rather than work on resolving whatever problem they have.  It’s really unproductive to spread anger, hate, and negativity.  Plus, it foments further negativity throughout the world, even if that world at the moment is within the immediate surroundings.  It’s bad enough the world beyond our own private spheres is spiraling towards discord, hatred, and a hot war.

On the way back that morning, Best Friend and I headed for breakfast at one of our favorite casual restaurants, and the pleasantness of the waitress, Theresa, and the owner, Lisa, and the laughter and light conversations from the other patrons proved that happiness, serenity, and positivity are far more productive in building a blissful environment.

As ever,

Lady Susan Marie Molloy

✿●▬●✿ ©2023 The Oasis at Four Queen Palms ✿●▬●✿

Smart Home Economics – Chicken Stew in White Wine.

at home, cooking, home economics, Uncategorized, wine, , , , , , ,

These days, with the ridiculous inflationary reality all of us are experiencing, it can become challenging to maintain your household on a sensible budget.  Here at The Oasis of Four Queen Palms, we work diligently to maintain a sensible household budget, without sacrificing nutrition and quality.

A couple of weeks ago, I made a simple chicken stew comprised of inexpensive chicken thighs.  One way to say money on foodstuffs is to look for near to the best buy or expiration dates.  They are usually discounted by the store for faster sales.  This is completely safe; just make sure you use that product the same day or the next or freeze it for a later date.

Following is my recipe for Chicken Stew in White Wine that will serve two to four people:

Ingredients

1 T olive oil

3 slices bacon, cut into thin, small pieces

1 small leek, sliced into thin coins

4 skinless, boneless chicken thighs or breasts

8 oz fresh mushrooms, sliced

2 tsp dried thyme

1/2 bottle (750ml) of white wine (can substitute chicken stock)

Salt and pepper, to taste

Juice of 1 lemon

Optional for garnish: chopped dill or chives

 Warm the olive oil in large pot over medium heat. Add the bacon and cook until the bacon has rendered some of its fat (about 2 minutes).  Add the leek; sauté for about 4 minutes.  Add the chicken, mushrooms, thyme, wine, and seasonings.

  1. Bring to a boil, then reduce to a simmer. Cover and simmer until the chicken is cooked – about 45 minutes.  Stir in the lemon juice.
  2. To serve:

Place chicken on a bed of hot, cooked flat noodles or rice.  Garnish each serving with chopped fresh dill or chives.

I bought an inexpensive, on sale, white wine, so you don’t have to buy top shelf, unless you want.

From time to time, during this year, I will be sharing my tips on stretching your homemaking dollars.  Sure, food and tangibles have become outrageously expensive, but with a little fortitude and imagination, you, too, can become more economically wise.

Check out my essay on Soups HERE, my Shepherd’s Pie HERE, and my Cabbage-Leek Sauté HERE.

CHICKEN STEW 2

As ever,

Lady Susan Marie Molloy

✿●▬▬▬●✿ ©2023 The Oasis at Four Queen Palms ✿●▬▬▬●✿

A Night at the Opera – Part 1.

entertainment, opera, , , ,

A Night at the Opera is one of my favorite Marx Brothers movies, but that’s an essay for another time.  This essay is about a very different experience.

It is opera season, and since we are opera fans, Best Friend and I anticipate evenings at the theater with enthusiasm.  We had tickets to attend a presentation of Georges Bizet’s Carmen and for days on end, “Habanera” and “El Toreador” played repeatedly in my mind, their melodies twisting together into a singularly odd song.

Finally, the evening arrived.  We dressed up – I wore a black dress with a lacy shawl that glittered in the low evening lights.  Best Friend wore a patterned dress shirt and printed tie.  Before heading into town, we ate a light meal of sandwiches and tea.

The night air was cool, but warm enough to have the car windows open.  As we drove into town, we saw that the streets were exceptionally crowded, and it was difficult to find parking near the theater.  Nevertheless, we found a spot many blocks away.

We walked in the cool evening air.  Along the way we enjoyed nature and seeing people eating and drinking in restaurant windows.

Then we turned the corner where the theater stood.  It was a large white brick and plaster building with a tiled covered exterior entrance, built in the 1920s.  At the door, we handed our tickets to an usher, and we made our way past the crowd in the lobby.  It seemed that everyone was on the main floor buying drinks and opera themed paraphernalia.  Uninterested in drinking or buying tchotchkes, we walked up the red carpeted staircase, through the second-floor lobby, and sat in our usual seats.  This was a sold-out crowd – and what a crowd it was!

There were patrons dressed in suits and ties and long gowns and sequined handbags.  There were those who wore sport jackets and street-length dresses.  Then there were those patrons that really stood out in a way that just made us smile and admire their uniqueness.

They were the ones dressed in flapper-style dresses with fringe and beads, 1920s headbands, period sequined handbags and makeup, too. They wore 1920s style: suits, ties, slicked hair, and fedoras.  It was pleasing to see them dress in an unconventional, yet classy, manner.  And what made this all the more fun to see was that they were all people somewhere in their 20s and 30s.

Best Friend and I enjoyed Carmen, too.  It was sung in French, with projected supertitles.  The story was timeless, the orchestra was live, the singing was superb, and the costumes were magnificent.  During the intermissions (There were three!), we talked with some of the people sitting near us, sharing our thoughts on the opera.

All this made for a grand time.

And I have a new appreciation of how patrons express themselves as they dress for a night at the opera.

As ever,

Lady Susan Marie Molloy

✿●▬●✿ ©2023 The Oasis at Four Queen Palms ✿●▬●✿

On Being Relaxed.

at home, cooking, relationships, tips for gracious living, , , , , , , ,

Earlier this week, I got the inspiration to bake.  The impetus was Best Friend mentioning one evening that he “sure can go for a piece of cake right now,” and that lead me to thinking, “Hey, I haven’t baked a cake since late last summer.”

I wound up baking “Two Egg Cake,” which is a no-fuss recipe for a basic white cake.  I used the recipe from the 1957 edition of Cakes and Tortes by the Staff Home Economists of the Culinary Arts Institute in Chicago, Illinois.  Then I whipped up a cream cheese lemon frosting with chopped walnuts from scratch.  (I cannot stand ready-made frostings.)

Was I done?  Well—

I went ahead and baked three batches of miniature scones (cranberry-walnut; raisin-apple; and cinnamon raison).  They are packed well in the freezer, waiting to thaw on the mornings that Best Friend and I have a couple with our morning coffee either in the courtyard or at the dinette table.  It is a pleasant way to gently start our day.

As I write this essay, my thoughts go to a serene life, a life without all the craziness of Go! Go! Go!, unceasing technology, and harmful egotism.  As I mixed the batters, the world around me became peaceful and unhurried.  As I waited for the cake and scones to bake, I hand washed the utensils and bowls and remembered how therapeutic the simple tasks of kitchen clean-up are for me.  Sure, modern appliances are time savers, yet what is it that we use those extra minutes for?  Check social media?  Watch a mindless television program?  Eat a bag of potato chips?  Do nothing at all?

I cook and bake from scratch as much as possible.  I find no real time saved using a box of cake mix, for example.  Making a cake from scratch might use up maybe an extra four minutes than using a boxed cake mix.  Cooking a meal of chicken piccata, rice, and fresh vegetables might take a little longer to make than microwaving a salty, preservative-filled TV dinner.  But it is healthier to cook from scratch.  And less expensive than buying prepared foods.

So what about those extra found minutes?

I ponder my thoughts.  I pray.  I formulate story outlines for my new books.  I converse with Best Friend.  I think about my day.  I revel in the unhurriedness.  I relax.

Would it be splendid if all parts of our lives were toned down – even just a little?

Not only would our lives be more relaxed, but life would also be healthier for us, physically, mentally, and religiously.

As ever,

Lady Susan Marie Molloy 

✿●▬▬▬●✿ ©2023 The Oasis at Four Queen Palms ✿●▬▬▬●✿

Serenity Before It Shatters.

current events, essay, opinion, , , , , , , ,

The morning began with a heavy fog hanging in the field behind The Oasis at Four Queen Palms.  The air was quiet; not even the mockingbirds’ trills broke the tranquility.  No grinding, mechanical vehicle sounds came from the faraway road that buttresses the neighborhood.  It was a perfectly peaceful morning.

By noon, the fog dissipated.  Life stirred.  The birds chirped.  A brown squirrel ran across the porch screen.  Vehicle sounds could be now heard in the distance.

But it was in those early morning hours when this domain was covered in the thick fog that the world felt serene and at peace.

Life has always been uncertain.  No one can predict with sureness how his life will turn out, what the future will bring, how the cycle of life will progress.  We can only look ahead with hope and optimism.  We can plan all we want, but there are those factors that seem to insist on inserting themselves into our plans.

Our future is now filled with even more uncertainty as war drums are banging with a consistent cadence now.

The trouble is, real war is not as glamorous as the jingoes, belligerents, aggressors, politicians – call them what you will – enjoy portraying.  It will be miraculous if we dodge a hot state of war.

I’d rather the fog I see across the field at The Oasis not be from gunfire . . . .

As ever,

Lady Susan Marie Molloy

✿●▬▬▬●✿ ©2023 The Oasis at Four Queen Palms ✿●▬▬▬●✿ 

Some Things I Miss – In the Restaurant Realm

essay, opinion, tips for gracious living, , , , , ,

The other day, as Best Friend and I were eating at a local restaurant, I looked at my place setting:

Plastic plate, thin paper napkin, and lousy metal utensils.

These days, dining out is nothing to write home about insofar as the presentation of meals.  Even the waitstaff don’t wear nice uniforms anymore.  They look like slobs that just rolled in off the street after getting out of bed in a hurry.

Then I remembered dining in the Olden Days:

Chinaware, linen napkins, glassware, and real silverware.

Not so long ago, restaurant tables were set with cloth tablecloths and cloth napkins (or at least top quality, thick paper napkins).  The restaurants’ silverware was real – heavy, substantial, with sharp fork tines, and knife blades that could actually cut meat.  Some of the better restaurants even had their name engraved or embossed on all the utensils.  The china was anything but cheesy.  The glassware was real glass, not plastic made to look like glass.  The waiters and waitresses dressed nicely in uniforms.  Busboys – well, they were a standard, too.  And the waitstaff would stop by every so often to ask how everything was.  If you had leftovers, your meal was wrapped in tinfoil and placed in a cheerfully printed doggie bag – a picture of a happy dog looking forward to the meal inside.  Some restaurants even fashioned your leftovers in a tinfoil swan shape.

Nowadays, we get forks that can’t stab butter, knives that have no sharp cutting edge nor serrated edge, spoons with near-flat bowls that couldn’t hold an eighth of ounce of anything.  All the utensils of today are made with cheap, cheesy, thin stainless steel from China.  Drinkware is mostly plastic made to look like glass – Surprise!  Surprise!  The waitstaff are sloppy in their garb, with jeans and a T-shirt with the restaurant’s name printed on them.  They come by your table asking, “How’s it tastin’?” (I hear that more and more now), and it’s rare to see a busboy.  And your leftovers are no longer wrapped in tinfoil.  You get to take them home in a Styrofoam box that drips.

These are my general observations.  There are a few places where the tables are set with linen tablecloths today, and the place settings are top shelf.  But they are few and far between.  And to be more clear, I’m not talking about fast food places, like the national hamburger joints.  It’s expected to find paper napkins and plasticware there.  What I’m referring to are the sit-down restaurants that have more than not degenerated into shoddiness.  *Sigh.*

At home, I try my best to always have a pretty table set with our Fiestaware, our good silverware, and good quality napkins.

Well, at least somewhere, Best Friend and I have a place to eat where the experience is always classy.

If you want it done right, do it yourself.

As ever,

Lady Susan Marie Molloy

✿●▬▬▬●✿ ©2023 The Oasis at Four Queen Palms ✿●▬▬▬●✿

A DINING ROOM 2

Money Doesn’t Make Class.

comportment, current events, essay, gratitude, opinion, , , , , , ,

I read the news last week that a famous, one-time athlete donated millions of dollars to an organization.  The news was everywhere for a couple of days – just in case you didn’t see it the first day the news was publicized.

There was a time when donors would grant their wealth in a quiet manner, preferring to remain anonymous, and let the glory reflect in the good that their donations created for the recipients – not in the act of them handing over a check.

In an episode of M*A*S*H, “Death Takes a Holiday,” Major Winchester received packages of chocolates from home.  Of course, the other officers were incensed that Charles would not share his chocolates with them.  They were even more infuriated that Charles donated a can of oysters to the orphans, which everyone saw.  Eventually, we learn that Charles had been giving his expensive chocolates to the orphans and insisted on anonymity, according to his family tradition.  It was a selfless gift that was made even better by the anonymity.

You see, there is great merit in doing good without all the “Look at me!  Look at me!” attitudes so prevalent today.  The athlete who broadcasted his donation consciously chose to make his action public, and all that I can surmise is that it was his selfish “Look at me!”  Look what I did!” moment.

I believe that is low class, and distasteful.

As ever,

Lady Susan Marie Molloy

✿●▬▬▬●✿ ©2023 The Oasis at Four Queen Palms ✿●▬▬▬●✿